Lien, mute, slob, stalefish, crail, taipan and a roast beef

Snowboarder doing a grab

First of all, this entry has nothing to do with snowboarding. But I decided to attach a picture of a guy doing some grab. Because snowboarders are by definition cool people. I’ve never had a snowboard strapped to my legs, so I am - again by definition - a lame person. But I hope that having snowboard pictures in my entries make me semi-cool, at least. So, here you go - dude doing a mute grab. Or at least that is what I think it is. Snow bums, correct me if I’m wrong.

When I woke up on Sunday, I checked my cellular and realized that Stine had called me seven times during the night. I knew she was going to a birthday party. probably getting a tad drunk. My first thought was that she’d gotten to that point in a girl’s drunken night where they want to talk, talk, talk, cry, talk, talk and then cry some more. But since it was around noon when I woke up, I decided to contact her and ask what she wanted. And it turned out it was something completely else than I thought.

When she got home from the party a hobo with a knife was sleeping outside her door. Not outside the entrance to her building, which is as far as he should get, in theory, since the entrance door should be locked. As we all know, theory and practice is far from the same thing, and some stupid motherfucker had forgot to lock the door. This has happened a thousand times before, I’ve been greeted by an unlocked entrance several times.

Anyway, she was able to get past him, lock herself in, then she went back outside in the hall and managed to scare him away by threatening to call the cops. Why she didn’t do just that is beyond me, I would’ve as soon as I noticed the knife. Instead she called me, I guess I would’ve been a real heroic sight, a pretty high fever, no real food for a couple of days, no shaving - I probably looked just as much as a hobo as the hobo himself. The incident made her a little shaky, thought, I might have been able to unshake her a little afterwards.


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